


i don't need therapy

by gundumbie



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru Share a Body Simultaneously, I Have Not Watched Danganronpa 3 :), M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Naegi Makoto/Togami Byakuya, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Neo World Program (Dangan Ronpa), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29134356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundumbie/pseuds/gundumbie
Summary: Hinata Hajime is a reserve course student. Kamukura Izuru is the Ultimate Hope. Sensitivity versus objectivity- emotion versus logic. Their brain is tearing itself in two, and the others only want to help.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Everyone, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito, Kamukura Izuru & Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 17
Kudos: 114





	1. Sick in the Head

**Author's Note:**

> tw for self-harm (hitting n bruising), self-hate :]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls read the tags!!!

Hajime has black hair now.

He looks at it emptily in the mirror. It falls over his shoulders, flattened and sagging at its own weight. The ends are tangled and knotted, barely touching the floor tiles as he shifts on his feet. He has black hair now.

And underneath it, there are two round, dull eyes. One red, one hazel. He lets his thumb come up to skim his eyebags, thick and heavy upon his skin. It doesn’t feel real.

This is Izuru, and Hajime is Hajime. But if Hajime is Izuru now, then who is Hajime? It hurts his head.

_ We are the same. _

That, too, is new. The thoughts. They sound like a different voice- although Hajime can’t quite hear them (he’s never had an inner voice), they scratch against the root of his head, powerful and unquestionable. Stronger, overpowering his brain’s other activity.

_ We aren’t the same,  _ Hajime thinks. He clutches the edges of his sink, feeling the porcelain beneath his palms. There’s no response.  _ We’re different. We aren’t the same. I’m Hajime. _

He doesn’t bother saying who he thinks the other voice is. It’s all in his head. He glares up at the mirror again, anger flaring up in his chest at the sight. Villain. He looks like a villain now.

The foundation of the sink snaps beneath his fingertips, material crumbling easily beneath his hands.  _ Ultimate Arm Wrestler?  _ He asks emptily, releasing his grip and letting the shards fall out of his tattered skin.

The other presence nods. Hajime brushes his hands against his pants, feeling a few shards get lodged in deeper. He thinks he deserves it- or whoever is in the mirror deserves it.

Hair falls back from the edge of his forehead, revealing discolored skin and stitches. Hajime clenches his fist and slaps the area.  _ Not real.  _ None of it’s real.

As soon as he’d regained his composure after waking from the simulation, he’d gotten up and went back to his cottage. He’d been the first to wake up, luckily, and none of the Future Foundation members were yet waiting for them. He didn’t want them to see him. Didn’t want his friends, the ones he’d tried so hard to save, to see him rendered to a disgusting, cruel  _ villain. _

His head throbs, and he clutches his temples, hissing. He stumbles to the wall of the bathroom, leant against it, staring at the ceiling. His vision blurs at the edges.  _ Why did they bring me back? _

_ You are a part of the survivors. _

Hajime ignores that. He stomps over to the sink again, bending to his knees and opening the cupboard. He reaches his hand out and grabs scissors, allowing the edge of the blade to dig into his flesh.

_ This will not change anything. _

He ignores that, too. With trembling hands and no forethought, Hajime brings the tool to below his ears and closes them around a lock of hair. It falls to the floor, leaving a gap in the curtain dangling behind him. He does it again. And again, until an uneven line is created to form a shorter style.

_ You could simply use my skills. _

Hajime turns his head in the mirror and trims a little bit more precisely, going in on the hair above. 

_ It is useless to assume physical changes will make mental. _

Hajime clears up the space above his ears, and leaves some bangs to cover his forehead. Because it’s looking a little big. 

_ The scar will not leave. _

The floor is covered in thick,  _ black  _ hair, opening up like fans and piling up on the tiles. Hajime kicks some of it to the side, and leans forward into the mirror again. He stares for a while.

Underneath the sink is a box of medical eyepatches. He takes one.

_____

Hajime stays in his room for one day until he’s fed up. He can’t tell if it’s him or the  _ other _ , but one of them is so nervous about all the chores, the things still to be done, the routines that might be going unfinished, that he can’t bother to be too embarrassed by his changes to go out anymore. No one has knocked yet, but they must be waiting. It’s inevitable.

Still, Hajime waits as long as he can before opening his front door. He finds it difficult to navigate with only one eye usable, but he manages.

_ You are only in denial.  _ The voice is a little more muffled. Hajime sees it as a win, although he feels a bit nauseous at the change.

He folds his shirt further over his hands. It was one of the ones from his closet, but it felt a little too tight. Hajime feels suffocated, and he tugs on the collar. He hadn’t bothered with the tie.

_ It would only have made you more pathetic. _

His friends are probably waiting at Hope’s Peak Academy, where they had woken up. After all, they probably have issues to work out with Makoto, Byakuya, and Kyoko, and are waiting for their friends to wake up. They’re braver than him, after all.

They’ve always been much braver than him, and they’re Ultimates. Hajime isn’t an Ultimate.

_ You are, technically. _

He punches himself in the skull. Hard. It makes his head throb, his knuckles sore, and a bump appear, but the voice stops. He counts that as a win.

He touches the eyepatch on his left eye and smooths the corners down, taking a deep breath in. He pushes open the door to Hope’s Academy, breath held.

The… trial room isn’t there. The last thing he’d wanted was to see it, but since it’s not there, he’s a little confused. Instead, there are several bright green capsules around a main cluster of monitors, surrounded by a sloped ceiling.  _ Ah.  _ He must’ve not noticed in his rush to leave, but the inside of this “Hope’s Peak” is different from the one they’d seen earlier.

That would make sense. It was a game.

He steps into the room, keeping his gaze strictly off of the other containers. He doesn’t want to see his friends locked up like animals, not even being able to guess when they’ll wake up again. He doesn’t want to face the decisions they had made. He  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to face the fact that those decisions were purely foolish and useless in the end.

Hajime feels the voice in his head want to say something, but it doesn’t. That’s good, because he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it right now.

“Ah! H-Hajime!” A voice calls. Hajime freezes and looks over slowly. Makoto stands there, smiling widely, albeit nervously.

“Hey! Uh, I was just about to… look… ing for you!” Makoto stumbles over his words, throwing the door he’d entered through back open. “But we can go back to the others now! We’re talking about our plans!” Hajime nods. He doesn’t want to speak.

He doesn’t know if his voice has changed, but if it has, he thinks he’d rather die than hear it.

Makoto holds the door open.  _ Oh, we’re doing this.  _ Hajime presses against the doorframe as he passes, trying his hardest not to make eye contact. He doesn’t want to scare Makoto. He doesn’t want to scare anyone.

They walk down the hallway in silence, Makoto ahead of Hajime and never once looking back. Hajime twirls his bangs around his finger and scratches at the area above his hidden eye. He brushes his hair further over the patch.  _ How will the others react?  _ Fear, anger, sadness, distance, Hajime will understand them all. He’s a criminal.

It may hurt, but he’ll accept it. No matter what, he won’t get mad, won’t show them the reaction they expect.

Makoto reaches the end of a hallway, and looks over his shoulder. Hajime focuses his gaze on his leather shoes (he hasn’t looked at his face once), and nods. The doorknob creaks.

A stifling tension fills the air. Hajime struggles with his collar, and chokes a little. He waits for screaming, or for more silence. 

“Hajime!” Someone does scream. He flinches back from the voice, back slamming against the wall. He looks up with wide eyes (or would it be “wide eye”?). Kazuichi rubs the back of his head in shame, smiling sharpedly. “Oh, my bad, sorry man.”

Fuyuhiko comes up to punch Souda softly. “Nice going, nimrod,” he drones. He then waves to Hajime.

Hajime waves back slowly, focused on the carpet.

“Hajime, you look quite different!” Sonia points out. She stops. “I suppose that is to be expected, though,” she giggles nervously.

“Fuck yeah, you look awesome!” Akane grins, arms crossed.

Hajime slowly brings his head up. He looks at all of them. Kazuichi’s hair is longer, and his face is sharply defined by age, one prosthetic leg keeping him upright. Fuyuhiko has his own hair in a ponytail, a scar and empty skin where his right eye should be. Sonia’s eyes are deeper set, and a long scar trails up her arm. Akane has a buzzed head, and innumerable scars among her skin.

Everyone has changed, yet Hajime’s is still the most drastic. He clears his throat. “Hi,” he says. His voice is different- even softer. He sounds like the person he’d been fighting back in the trial room with Junko, the person they were  _ all  _ fighting. No one mentions it.

“We’re glad you’re okay, man,” Kazuichi says, tugging at his braid nervously.

Hajime nods. There's a long, long silence.

From the sidelines, Byakuya clears his throat.

“We’ve been contacted by the Future Foundation, told our punishments will be quote-unquote ‘determined shortly’. Until then, we can assume we’ll be staying here.” Byakuya pushes his glasses further up his nose, looking to Makoto.

“That’s right!” Naegi jumps in brightly. “So, we’ll be setting up daily mealtimes and chore schedules, to make sure you guys have some routine! One of us will check up on you guys every once in a while, so don’t worry.” Hajime hadn’t been worried.

Makoto nods to himself. “We’ll be having daily group therapy sessions, too, but those can wait until tomorrow. For today, since it’s getting late, you guys can go back to your cottages, or stay in one of the rooms here, and just rest until breakfast!”

“Therapy?” Fuyuhiko asks, leaning forwards. “Who the hell will run that?”

Kyoko raises a hand calmly. “It’s important to keep your mental health well right now,” she states, “and the others said I’d be the best for the position.” Hajime shifts uncomfortably. Therapy sounds… compromising. 

He’ll have to talk about his emotions,  _ in front of the others?  _ Hajime can’t imagine that. It’ll be embarrassing, and stupid. The others will probably hate him even more. He’s sure that Fuyuhiko will agree with him at least a little, so he looks up at the other man.

Except Fuyuhiko just hums. “I guess that’s fine.” He casts a glance at the others, who nod. Hajime stands, stunned.  _ Are they serious? _

_ Perhaps they, unlike you, know what they need and want their friends to get better.  _

Hajime feels fury brew underneath his skin, so he reels back and hits his head against the wall. Someone gasps, and hands grab him before he can attempt to do it again. He freezes.

“Hajime!” Akane exclaims, tightening her grip. “Careful with yourself, man!” Hajime brings a hand up to his forehead, rubbing the second bruise forming there, dazed. He looks up at the others, who seem terrified.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Akane lets him go, but as he moves to step away, she slings an arm over his shoulders. He tenses at first, but relaxes, allowing her touch to linger. It feels nice.

“Are you okay?” Kyoko asks slowly. Hajime nods, embarrassed. “Alright, then. We'll let you all get back to your cottages, or wherever you'd rather sleep. We'll be here if you need us."

Hajime is staring numbly at the floor while the others nod. He knows they're doubting him, thinking he'll murder someone tonight. He doesn't blame them.  _ I doubt myself, too. _

Byakuya turns back to his phone, typing something with nimble fingers while Makoto smiles and opens the door for them. The others leave, but Hajime waits a little longer. "I'm sorry," he mutters, not making eye contact.

He doesn't bother waiting for a response.


	2. My Turn

That night, Hajime can't sleep.

He hates it in the cottage. With every passing moment, he can almost hear that familiar chime ringing in his ears, the shout of, "A body has been discovered!" And the more and more time passes by, the more and more worked up he gets.

His hands are shaking, empty stomach wrenching in on itself. He's too scared to move a muscle, tons of invisible eyes tracking his every move.  _ Nagito. Gundham. Nekomaru. Mikan. Ibuki. Hiyoko. Mahiru. Peko. Teruteru. Byakuya. _

They're all screaming at him, clawing at his dormant body with their cold,  dead hands. It's all his fault. All his fault.

He repeats it over and over like a mantra, but it only makes him more unstable. 

Then, suddenly, everything stops. His hands stop shaking. His nails stop scratching at his skin. He stares up at the canopy of his bed, face twitching.

There's no worry in his mind about what's happening, just a pause button. And suddenly, play is pressed, and he's brushing off his shirt.

Izuru is brushing off his shirt.

He doesn't bother to address the red marks left over his skin, nor the tears fresh on his face. No, because there's someone at the door.

With a flourish, Izuru grabs a survival knife from the bedside table and gets up from the bed. Hajime had had it with him when he woke up. Izuru doesn't remember the simulation, so he can't begin to imagine where it comes from. He just knows this could be a killer, and whether it's his body or not, there's no way the Ultimate Hope will die.

He grips the doorknob and opens the door, peering around it. Kazuichi stands in the archway. "Hey, man!" He shouts, eyes bunching up as he smiles. "How're you?" His eyebags are almost as deep as Izuru's own.

Izuru hadn't planned on replying, but Kazuichi doesn't wait for a response. "Because I'm bad! And the others are, too- we're gonna have a sleepover in the restaurant if you wanna come!"

Squinting, Izuru thinks it over. He has nothing to gain besides a possible attempt on his life from the outing, but Hajime is still pestering him at the back of his mind.  _ He will keep himself up with his delusions. _

Izuru nods in response to Kazuichi, who bares his teeth in another wide grin. "Cool! Come with me, dude!"

Not bothering to let him grab his hand, Izuru goes on ahead. Kazuichi stumbles to catch up, hard metal of his prosthetic leg clapping against the floor as he reaches Izuru's side.

Izuru keeps his head facing forward as Kazuichi rambles. He's not the intended audience, anyways- Kazuichi simply can't handle the silence. Izuru knows this- whichever of his Ultimate talents deals with empathy figures it out. Or, perhaps it's Hajime's thoughts at the back of his mind.

As someone more qualified than any other psychiatrist, Izuru can say they have developed forced DID from their two seperate memories and the Izuru Project. He supposes it occurred both to cope and may have been an issue Hajime's whole life. It would've been difficult to notice the presence of a mental disorder unless you were an Ultimate Scientist, and many of the people working on the Izuru project were simply normal scientists aiming to create an Ultimate Hope. They didn't care about Hajime's health.

_ That, however, is just a hypothesis _ . Izuru's guesses are as close to perfect as humans can get, though. He's seen the results of the experiments.

"Hey, man, you in there?" Kazuichi asks, waving a hand in front of his face. Izuru blinks slowly. "Ya stopped!"

Izuru nods and begins walking again.  _ Don't hurt them,  _ he thinks. No, that was probably Hajime.

"Well, uh- cool!" Kazuichi chirps. There's a small pause, when Izuru can feel his eyes on the back of his neck. 

Kazuichi comes running up to be side-by-side with him once again. "Uh, you- you okay, man?" He asks. When Izuru fixes him with a steely glare, he elaborates. "'S just- you're acting weird, 's all!"

Izuru blinks slowly. "Hajime has experienced a dissociation and switch due to stress." He says, reaching the base of the stairs leading to the restaurant.

He doesn't expect Kazuichi to understand, but to his surprise, he nods slowly. "'Kay, I get it!" He shouts. "-Wait, uh, does this mean- are you, uh- Izuru?"

Izuru takes a few seconds to think this over. "I am based off of Izuru Kamukura's traits, but am not effectively him. Since the Future Foundation reverted his brain back to its original state, I am simply a coping mechanism."

Kazuichi takes a few seconds to stare into space, then nods. "Okay, I get it, yup!" He sticks out a hand. "Hi, my name's Kazuichi Soda! Nice to meet ya, Ruru!"

Izuru stares blankly. "What did you just call me?" 

"Ruru!" Kazuichi grins in a wide, shark toothed way. "'Cause if we're gonna be friends, we need nicknames, and I don't wanna call you the name of a mass murderer!"

"Technically, I could say yours is the name of a mass murderer, too." Izuru says, not shaking the outstretched hand.

Kazuichi flinches. "Ouch, man," he says, giving a strained smile. "Ya got me there."

Izuru nods, and begins climbing the stairs. He hears small footsteps behind him.

"Hajime!" Akane calls, waving her hand incessantly. "Over here!" She has a table slung over her shoulder. Sonia is pushing a chair out of the way, and Fuyuhiko is standing with his arms crossed.

Izuru walks over calmly, eyeing the mass of blankets and pillows on the floor. 

"We are going to make a fort!" Sonia says excitedly, clapping her hands. "A sleepover, so quaint!" 

Fuyuhiko sighs. "Yeah. Good to see ya."

"That's the spirit, baby gangsta!" Akane shouts, earning her a glare.

Kazuichi looks over to Izuru, as if asking for permission. Izuru nods.

"Hey, this isn't Hajime, it's someone named Izuru!" The others freeze. Kazuichi waves his hands in the air fervently. "No, no- not uh, not that guy! It's like a projection of him, like Mechamaru!" Izuru feels them look him up and down, as if expecting him to also be a robot.

"It's true," he says simply. 

Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Hajime better explain this shit when he's… back." 

Sonia nods, looking at Izuru distrustfully. Akane just smiles sadly, probably remembering Mechamaru.

"Can we be sure he won't kill us in our sleep?" Sonia asks hesitantly. Izuru turns to face her, and she flinches.

"I can ask for Hajime to come back if you'd prefer." She nods, relieved. Izuru closes his eyes and finally gives into the fervant tugging from Hajime.

There's a moment of silence, then Hajime's thoughts are flooding into his brain. He finds himself standing in the restaurant, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. The others are staring at him hesitantly.

Hajime clutches his head, looking around, confused. "Where…?" He turns to face the others, who seem to be having a silent conversation.

"Hey, dude, we're having a sleepover! We think you kinda sleepwalked here!" Akane says, smiling. The other three nod.

She tugs him by the arm, and he just allows her to, head spinning and confused. Fuyuhiko pats him on the back.

Kazuichi and Sonia unfold the blankets, arranging them into a big slab of fabric that they can all fit on. Pillows are thrown in haphazardly. Hajime watches, slowly releasing his head and feeling calmer. 

Finally, the "fort"-  _ it's not even a fort-  _ is finished, and Kazuichi flops down on it. Sonia carefully sets her body down. 

"It is soft!" She exclaims, smiling. Akane cannonballs into it, landing right next to Sonia, who shrieks.

Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes but tugs on Hajime's sleeve, pulling them over next to Kazuichi. The mechanic smiles widely, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. "Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asks suddenly.

Sonia and Akane stop their tussling.

"No, idiot," Fuyuhiko says softly. Kazuichi shakes his head.

"No, but like- I did some fucked up shit, ya know? I repressed most of it, but there are still flashbacks, ya know?" The others nod thoughtfully. Hinata just stares.

"I can't remember anything of being an Ultimate Despair," he says. The others share a look. "But I think that no matter what things you did- they're  _ her  _ fault. And there's no way you'd do them now."

They take a second to absorb his words. Kazuichi sniffles, throwing himself at Hajime. "Soul friend!" He sobs out. Hajime rolls his eyes playfully.

Sonia pumps her fist. "Yes, we are changed people!" Akane high fives her.

Fuyuhiko grins a little. "Hajime, you'd be a great therapist."

Hinata smiles bitterly. "I  _ am  _ an Ultimate Therapist, I guess." The mood falls.

Kazuichi pushes his hands against Hajime's chest, looking him in the eyes. "You still have the talents?"

Hajime looks down at his hands. "Yeah. I think that there's no way the Future Foundation could, like,  _ totally  _ remake this version of me, you know? And they probably wanted me to be  _ their  _ little toy."

There's a silence. 

"I say fuck 'em," Fuyuhiko huffs, "but since you're stuck with 'em, there's nothing you can do about it. I say don't beat yerself up over it." The others nod in agreement.

"They're cool!" Akane cheers.

"Yes, your talents are quite interesting!" Sonia says, smiling.

"Hell yeah!" Kazuichi yells.

Hajime snorts. The others laugh, and they keep on laughing.

It might be the fact that it's three a.m., but they find the whole situation fucking hilarious at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading. stay safe!!


	3. Lukewarm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime feels, and feels strongly. Things are calm for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tws: cigarettes (thanks fuyuhiko), eating disorder and mentioned starvation (thanks akane), panic/anxiety attack (thanks hajime)

Everyone is asleep. Hajime feels a knee poking his side, and hears soft snores. But he's still awake.

He has a sneaking suspicion of how he ended up in the restaurant, and he doesn't like it at all. Doesn't like the idea of not being in control of his own body. Sighing, he pulls himself from the mounds of blankets and pillows. There's a Hajime-sized gap left in his friends' cuddle pile.

Moonlight leaks through the restaurant's balcony. Hajime stumbles towards it, pinching himself to keep awake. He pushes himself off the doorway, catching his footing and keeping himself from sliding down into the bushes below.

He can see the cottages in the distance, light shining on their brick roofs. He counts them one-by-one, trying to remember whose is whose. He lets his hand cup his chin, staring at the stars.

He feels the same as he did that one night, after being told the trip’s true intentions. Nostalgic, longing, half-asleep. His mind drifts as he stares up into the sky, eyes defocusing and letting them become a blurry mess of black and white. Hajime is tired.

He’s so, so tired.

Something tightens in his chest, and he hisses, clutching at his shirt. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself. “Fuck this.” He’s fed up with this.

Having a serial killer in his body, forced into a killing game, helping the icon of despair kill millions of people- why does death follow him wherever he goes? Is Hajime some kind of bad omen? Maybe he has really, really bad luck. He snorts bitterly under his breath.

_ Bad luck, huh?  _ He thinks of Nagito, his pallid face wired up in that green pod back in Hope’s Peak Academy.  _ Maybe this is all Nagito’s fault. Him and his stupid luck. _

But that thought just makes him guilty.

He knows Nagito is severely mentally ill. He couldn’t help his actions just as much as Hinata couldn’t help what he’d done under the control of Despair. Hell, they had to tie Nagito up just to make sure he wouldn’t kill anyone! 

Was that the right choice? Hinata doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. His temples pound at his brain, and he groans. He’s made a lot of bad decisions.

He misses his friends. All of them.

… Maybe Chiaki a little moreso.

Because she wasn’t even  _ real.  _ She’s gone; actually, permanently gone, basically dead. It was Hinata’s fault that her artificial mind was created in the first place.

_ What were you thinking?  _ He asks himself, and his brain suddenly falls into a memory.

His hand clutches at a thumbdrive, fingers clenching around it. He looks up to the giant machine in the middle of the room. He approaches it, and plugs it in  _ and he’s done she’s back he did it- _

Hinata throws himself back against the wall. He gasps for breath, shaking and trembling. What has he  _ done?  _ He chokes on a sob, heart constricting and pounding against his chest.

His hands weave themselves into his hair- his  _ black  _ hair- and tug hard, focusing on the sensation instead of the pain, the death of his friends, the shifting of realities, and he feels someone sit next to him. He flinches and looks up through watery eyes to see a blur of neon blond. It stands out against the backdrop of black and gray, blurred mess of confusion. Hajime’s breath catches.

Fuyuhiko says nothing, just takes a loud inhale. Hajime grasps onto it, tries his best to copy it, letting his throat clench around the absence of hyperventilating. They let it out at the same time, Hajime hiccuping over the emptying of his lungs. He struggles to take another breath in, sobbing and losing focus.

“Hey, you’re good, man, just take another one, you’re good.” Fuyuhiko says softly, softer than he’s ever spoken in the time Hajime’s known him. So, Hinata takes another breath, relieved when he lets it out in one try. From then on, it’s easier to get a grasp of it, letting his chest rise and fall, feeling the blur of his thoughts slow.

He looks up through his bangs to see Fuyuhiko staring down at him. “What’s up, bastard?” He asks, quieter than he usually would. Hajime looks back towards the pile of blankets to see no one else awake. Relieved, he looks back to Fuyuhiko.

“Nothing much, what about you?” Hajime mutters. Fuyuhiko snorts and shakes his head slowly.

“Nothin’ much.” Silence. Fuyuhiko reaches into the pocket of his blazer and pulls out a lighter, and a pack of cigarettes in his other hand. He flicks the flame to life and holds the stick between his teeth.

Hajime reaches for one. “Hey, watch it.” Fuyuhiko snaps, putting the pack away. “These’re expensive, and hella bad for ya.” He lights the end of the one between his teeth, taking a long drag. He opens his mouth and blows out the smoke, fingers flicking stray ash from one end.

Rolling his eyes, Hajime folds his hands in his lap. “But it’s fine if you do it?” He asks quietly, watching smoke drift up into the sky. 

Fuyuhiko sighs. “Nah, it ain’t for me, either. I jus’ care less ‘bout me than you.” With that sad statement, he stands up and leans over the railing, letting the cigarette between his index and forefinger dangle over the edge.

Hajime stares at the silhouette of his friend, cross-legged on the floor of the balcony. Fuyuhiko is odd. Not good at comforting people, but good at making them feel better nonetheless. Hajime picks at his fingernails.

He’s bone-dead tired. “Were you asleep?” He asks, slightly guilty. Fuyuhiko shakes his head.

“Wasn’t. Don’t think all ‘o the others were, either.” He casts a glance over his shoulder. Hajime slowly turns around, and is met with Akane, waving sheepishly from her bed.

“Hey, fellas!” She says, standing, and after a brief moment of regaining her composure, coming over to them. “Sorry, I was gonna help, an’ all, but Fuyu looked like he had it covered!” She smiles apologetically to Hajime. He shrugs it off.

She sits on the other side of the archway, knees up to her chest. Fuyuhiko casts an indiscernible glance her way. They sit in silence, Fuyuhiko smoking, Akane staring into the distance, and Hajime fiddling with his hands.

The air is cold, biting against Hajime’s arms. He fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, shaking and pulling his arms tight around his chest. He stares at the seams of his jeans, letting his fingers skim over them. 

“I didn’t eat today.” Akane says suddenly.

Hajime looks over to her, to see her smiling sadly and burrowing her face in her chest. 

“Why the hell not?” Fuyuhiko asks, but not angrily. He puts his cigarette out on the metal rail and goes back into the restaurant. Akane turns to Hajime, who shakes his head. He has no idea. He does, however, turn towards her.

“Why, uh- why did you not eat?” He mutters. Akane laughs.

“When she was alive-” Hajime doesn’t have to ask which  _ she-  _ “she’d always like when I was hungry. I was strong, y’know? But she said she liked when I looked like a skeleton.

“I guess I got used to that. They pumped me fulla proteins while I was in that pod, and I feel guilty lookin’ at myself.” She prods at the fat on her arms, sighing. “I dunno, man. I wanna be strong, but it feels like I can’t be without bein’ weak.”

Hajime thinks this over for a second. He reaches towards her and grabs her hand, propping it up with his own. He pushes her arm back down, arm wrestling style. “You don’t like losing,” he points out. “She thought she could overpower you just because she was who she was. So don’t lose to her. Just try your best to win.”

Akane stares at their interlocked hands for a few moments, before lifting them back up and pushing Hajime’s down. He barely struggles against her grip- she’s  _ strong.  _ “Okay.” She says simply, taking a deep breath. “Fuck her, right?”   
  


Hajime nods, smiling slightly. 

There’s a knock on the wall of the restaurant behind them, and they both turn. Fuyuhiko emerges, tossing something to Akane. She catches it easily, and Hajime sees the glint of a green wrapper.

“Eat it. If you can.” Fuyuhiko says.   
  
“Aww, so thoughtful, baby gangsta!” She replies, smiling up at him. Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and turning away. Hajime watches Akane open it slowly, turning the granola bar over in her hands. He looks away when she begins to eat.

They sit in silence for a little while as Akane takes slow bites of the treat.

"She was a bitch," Fuyuhiko says, leaning against the railing. He brings out the pack of cigarettes and just stares at it as he talks. "She fucked all of us over, y'know? Just fer fun."

Hajime nods. He does feel a bit out of place with all of this, what with his memories being lost and all. He supposes that is being fucked up, though- losing years of suppressed memories. That counts as trauma, too.

"Yeah," Akane agrees, with her mouth full. She swallows. "When Kazuichi came over to mine, he was nearly havin' a panic attack. I'm glad he did, though- 'think it's good for us to spend more time together. I really like you guys, ya know?" Hajime looks over, and she beams at him. He smiles back.

His heart gets a little warm. He leans back against the restaurant wall, and looks at the cottages again.

Maybe not all his memories tied to this island are good. But at least this one can be.

"Let's get back inside, it's fucking cold." Fuyuhiko bites out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He shuffles back through the doorway. Hajime stands, looking back to Akane, who's finished her snack. He shoots her a thumbs up, and goes back in.

The warm air blasts him in the face, and he shudders. He hears Akane trail in behind him. Fuyuhiko is settling back into the mound of pillows and blankets. He rolls over onto his side, leaving a gap enough for Hajime to fit, too.

He waves to Akane, and settles into his spot. Surrounded by warmth and piled blankets, he sinks further and further, until he feels himself falling asleep. And, surprisingly, he's okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW HELLO me??? updating at a kinda regular time??? seems sus.... but im kinda satisfied w this!! dont be fooled, the calm doesnt stay for long >:) i am a byakuya kinnie, after all, so there will always be CHAOS even if it doesnt seem like there will >:)))) tysm for reading, ily all!!!

**Author's Note:**

> thank u sm for reading, the next chapter will be out soon!! i may not be consistent but i'll try ^^' my comfort character is the imposter so they may or may not appear soon


End file.
